


Make No Mistake

by Hezjena2023



Series: Rituals!Verse - Blood Magic [2]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Blood Mages, Comfort, Consent, F/F, Femslash, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Leandra's heteronormativity is showing, Merrill gets all of the validation, Merrill/Marina, Oh no there’s plot in the porn, Oral Sex, Porn Without Plot, Prompts Welcome, Ritual!Verse, Romance, Smut, Technically incomplete - but no update schedule, The start of something beautiful, bunch of oneshots, emotional smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2020-12-24 20:49:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21105788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hezjena2023/pseuds/Hezjena2023
Summary: "You’re beautiful and clever," Merrill breathed hard, her large green eyes flicking up at Marina’s face before dropping back to settle on her hands clasped tightly together on her lap, "and you never make mistakes."***A selection of snippets from Marina and Merrill’s relationship in roughly chronological order.





	1. Make No Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during DA2, Marina Hawke and Merrill's first night together.

"You’re beautiful and clever," Merrill breathed hard, her large green eyes flicking up at Marina’s face before dropping back to settle on her hands clasped tightly together on her lap, "and you never make mistakes." Merrill’s heart was hammering in her ears, she could feel it like a drum, her pulse pounding out a rhyme she could get lost in. There was still dried blood underneath her fingernails, scratches down her forearms. She was blood mage, it was a side effect of her magic, but she twisted her fingers together suddenly ashamed. "I don’t-" she swallowed hard, her shoulders shook as she buried the sob that threatened to burst out of her, "I don’t deserve you." 

The witty retort Marina has prepared caught on her tongue, trapped behind her teeth. She wasn’t quite sure where this sudden anxious confession had come from, not why she’d believe such a thing in the first place. "Deserve?" Marina whispered, a flat echo of Merrill’s voice. Her bones felt as though they had been replaced by lead, her veins full of mercury, she slumped down heavily besides Merrill. 

Close enough she could feel the heat from Marina’s thigh. This was it, Merrill thought, the end. She would finally realise that Merrill really wasn’t worth all this trouble. 

Marina pressed her face against the soft fabric of Merrill’s sleeve, feeling the warmth of her skin radiating outwards. Marina inhaled, and her heart hurt. She smelt like a meadow in the spring, soft and sweet, an endless field of flowers. "How can I ever be worthy of you?" Marina breathed. 

Merrill laughed nervously, her hands still twisting together. 

Slightly alarmed, Marina pulled back. Perhaps she had moved too fast, maybe she’d been too much, too soon. It had been slow, long looks that has lasted years. Comments passed like notes between them, enticing, enrapturing, enveloping. Marina realised her attraction may have become a dangerous obsession, when in the last excursion she’d been struck in the back of the head with a sword hilt, distracted but the complicated swirls of Merrill’s staffwork. She was an accomplished mage, but it was more than that. The way her shoulder blades moved with each twirl, the way she paused for a second after striking the earth with her stave, the way her eyes glimmered with victory. 

Maybe Merrill had never felt the same. 

Marina gazed across as Merrill, her large green eyes looked back. Blinking dark lashes against her tattooed cheeks. Marina reached up carefully, and pushed a strand of black hair back behind the other mage’s pointed ear. 

The elf shivered at the other woman’s touch. She bit her lip. Merrill could feel Marina’s breath against her cheek, could see her flickering pulse in her neck. “My clan would disapprove," she said without thinking and wanted to kick herself. She clamped her mouth shut to stop herself rambling. 

"Is that what you’re worried about?" Marina asked softly, kindly, words barely more than a whisper. She drew her hand fully back, and shuffled back a little. So they were no longer touching, disconnecting them, severing their connection. Giving Merrill space, the choice to back out. 

"Yes," then Merrill frowned, pink lips dropping, she shook her head, “no, I left them. Have I made a mistake? Leaving the Dalish? Should I have," her shoulders sunk and she crumbled. She picked at her blood stained nails, "I’m rambling." 

Marina didn’t say anything for a long moment, instead pulling her legs up so she sat cross legged and turned her body to face Merrill, she reached out, but thought better of it and drew her hand back to herself. "You’re homesick?" 

"All I ever wanted was to leave, and now I’ve left-" she broke off, and turned her body to face Marina. She peeked up at the human, she wanted to run her hand across her figure. Wanted to trace kisses along the line that curved in to her waist, wanted to explore every inch of her. Her emerald eyes darted up to Marina’s face, to her lips. "I could never have done this before," quickly before her courage failed her she leaned across the gap that Marina had created to press their lips together. 

It was a short, messy kiss that was over far to swiftly. 

As Merrill pulled back, her face was crimson, blushing hard under the sharp angles of her vallaslin. Her chest was heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Then she glanced down at her hands and felt another burst of shame. She hid her nails underneath her hands and tried to push away from Marina, apologises dripped from her mouth. She started to pull away to get to here.

Marina reached out for her hand, surprising the other woman. "Don’t, please, don’t apologise." Waiting a long moment, giving her the opportunity to back way. When Merrill didnt resist, Marina pulled her hands towards her, stretching out the bloodmage’s fingers. Her fingers stained with her blood, her magic, her power. Gently, she pulled Merrill’s hand towards her, and pressed a chaste kiss to the side of her palm. 

Merrill gasped, "stop, I’m-" 

"Beautiful? Powerful? Brilliant?" Marina offered, but let go of her hand as bid regardless. 

"You can’t believe that." 

"Can’t I?" Marina murmured, edging closer, "may I?" She asked her fingers fluttering like a butterfly over the long line of her neck.

The word was choked, "yes." 

Marina shifted forward, pressing kisses into Merrill’s neck. She flicked her tongue against the pulse, and licked the line of her jaw. Before moving upwards to catch the lobe of her ear between her teeth and bit down gently. 

Merrill gasped and writhed against her. Her hands reaching out, sliding across Marina’s riding jacket, one hand finding her shoulder and the other found purchase tangled in Marina’s silky black hair. Fingers pulling tight, urging, desperate. 

Marina pulled back a moment, intending to move back to her mouth. But froze. 

Merrill was flushed, eyes glazed and lips parted. After a heartbeat, she blinked confusion, "are you alright?"

"You’re perfect," Marina whispered in awe, and pressed back for another kiss before Merrill could even think about apologising. Merrill’s lips were chapped from travel, but oh so willing and they parted under the slightest pressure from Marina’s tongue. 

The hand that Merrill had placed on Marina’s shoulder slipped down, grazing her breast with tantalising testing, and dropped until she found the buckle just below her sternum. As the buckle’s prong snapped against the frame, Merrill moaned in Marina’s mouth. 

Marina pulled back, to glance down and found her jacket mostly undone. The corner of her mouth twisted up in anticipation, and hurried hands tried to find the fastenings on Merrill’s Dalish attire. Growling, Marina asked, "is it tied on with ancient elvish magic?" 

Merrill laughed against Marina’s skin, the giggle a wave of hot breath that drew up shivers on her skin. Using the human’s shoulder to push herself backwards, Merrill pulled at the hidden straps. "It’s easy, not magic." 

With some slight of hand she couldn’t fathom, Marina watched as Merrill meticulously loosened each item that made up her outfit. Loosened and draped around her, a slight wind would have taken them off completely. 

And Marina was more determined than a stiff breeze. Slipping a hand under her tunic and pulling the whole bundle over her head, she pressed forward to cup the elf’s breast in her hand. Marina had half expected her vallaslin to drip down her shoulders, curl around her breasts, and dribble only her belly, but she was bare. 

Marina was unsure if it was a slight chill in the air, or the situation that caused Merrill’s nipples to harden. She brushed the tight bud with her forefinger. She felt the action deep in the pit of her own belly, like spinning round too fast. Merrill made her so deliciously dizzy. 

Merrill arched into her touch, and reached out blindly. Reaching out for the barriers that still protected Marina’s skin, ripping the jacket off and flinging it to the ground. Then blood stained fingers worked their way down each tiny hook of her blouse, unloosening them from their eyes, until her shirt was undone and the cold metal drew back across her skin like tiny claws. 

"Maker’s mercy," Marina swore as she shrugged the cloth from her shoulder and twisted her own breastband up and off. 

There was hesitance, for the merest heartbeat before Merrill’s fingertips peppered little kisses across her skin. 

Then Marina laughed in the back of her throat, casting a glance towards Merrill's vallaslin , "or whoever’s mercy." 

"Your-" Merrill began. But the sentence was utterly forgotten as Marina’s mouth descended upon her breast, kissing a line down her cleavage, before sucking hard against the skin.

Leaving a splash of colour against Merrill’s pale skin, a vivid love bite. The pain reminded her of battle, magic pooled under her skin, the sensation as intoxicating. Merrill threw her head back, lost in Marina’s touch. She was incoherent, and gave herself over utterly, under the other mage’s spell. 

Dipping lower, Marina pressed her face against Merrill’s belly, breathing hard as her cheek pressed against her taut stomach. Her fingers traced the delicate curve of her waist, which flared elegantly down to her hips. Marina’s hand continued the journey and found the still clothed slight curve of her arse. She clutched the soft flesh and as Merrill groaned beneath her touch, Marina pulled from her explorations. 

Taking the momentary distraction, Merrill dragged Marina back up to kiss her fiercely. Heady moans filled the air, as teeth and tongue fought in a most pleasurable battle. 

Sharp teeth grazed over Marina’s lip, and as Marina gave way to her tongue, Merrill used the momentum to push her backwards. And nudged Marina’s still crossed legs with her knee, and raised a questioning glance to Marina.

Unfolding her legs willingly, and using her right leg to hook behind Merrill, urging her forwards. 

Merrill stretched forwards, dropping a soft kiss against Marina’s lips, then stretching upwards and pulling the tie from her hair. Her cropped black hair spilled forward, framing her face. And she gazed down sheepishly. 

Marina’s hands grazed her hip, her fingers traced the line where her leggings rested on the little dimple above her hipbone. And she breathed out.

Suddenly unsure, Merrill crossed an arm across her chest, covering herself with a slim arm. The inside of her elbow shadowed with the tan line from her cut out armour. She scrunched a hand through her hair, looking for the right words. 

"Do you want to stop?" Marina asked, sitting up a little, attuned to Merrill’s uncertainty. 

Her eyes closed, and Merrill took and unsteady breath. Then she pressed a hard, desperate kiss to Marina, wrapping her arms around her neck. And the Merrill broken the kiss, and sagged against Marina, pressing her forehead to the other woman. She could feel her breath on her face, see her curious gaze, waiting, expectant but without pressure. "There were stories, in my clan of the shemlen, um, humans." She bit her lip, a flush staining her cheeks, and fighting the panic rising in her throat. "They’d steal our love for a night, and then-" Merrill trailed off. 

"I’m yours." Marina answered, promising without reservation. She encircled Merrill with her arms, leading their bodies together. Wrapping the elf in a tight hug, and breathing heavily in her hair, her fingers pressed tightly to the ladder of her spine. "If you’ll have me?"

Merrill pushed back, a worry poking out her lower lip. "What if I’m a mistake?"

Marina gave her a wicked smirk. "Didn’t you just say that I didn’t make mistakes?" 

  
  
  



	2. Misadventure in the Maze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marina finds herself trapped with Merrill, they take the moment to unwind and let down some walls. Marina reveals that she isn't as confident as she appears.

“Trap!” Isabela yelled, as the heel of Merrill’s foot came off the hidden pressure plate.

Marina was already moving forwards, instinctively after she heard the click and the almost silent gears working behind the walls. She barged into the back of Merrill, just as the other mage turned alarm and they tumbled together to crash into the polished black tiles before they were likewise plunged into darkness.

On the floor Marina was caught underneath Merrill, her hand against her waist, her knee between her legs. 

Merrill’s fingers clutched into Marina's leather breastplate as she blinked in the darkness. “Can you see anything?” She asked optimistically, despite knowing that her vision was better than the human’s. She could see Marina beneath her, taut and heart pounding, but beyond that - just the stale air of this particularly patch of crumbling dwarven ruin. 

The answer didn’t come from Marina, rather a muffled sound from the way they’d come. “Trapped… going… help… stay put!”

“I’m going to give us some light, if there is anything else down here-“ Marina warned and then trailed off as Merrill shifted off her. She bit her bottom lip to stop herself pouting. There had been nothing between them since Marina had told her she was hers, only a handful of smouldering looks and keeping a careful distance to ensure that she was never alone with her. 

They were in trouble and this was not a time for Marina to be distracted by the flare of Merrill’s hips or the way in which her fingers moved as she cast. Marina called for her instinctive connection to the fade, drawing lights to her fingertips and sending the little sparks bobbing into the air like fireflies.

“Pretty,” Merrill commented. Her hand stretched out, and one of the little magelights landed on the back of Merrill’s hand. Unlike fire there was no warmth in the light, just a soft coolness that seemed to spread over Merrill’s skin until she shivered. 

“Focus,” Marina replied under her breath, mostly as a warning to herself. 

“We’re alone.” Merrill said quickly, as the magelight she was holding went out. 

It took a few more moments for Marina’s vision to catch up. The first thing Marina saw was Merrill, her silhouette was familiar, her outline burned into her mind. The details followed, first her large green eyes, pupils blown impossibly large, shining bright as they reflected the magelight. 

Marina reluctantly tore away from looking at her, to see that the room was little more than a storeroom, barely four paces by four. Which set Marina’s heart pounding with a completely different emotion. Littered one corner was a pile of smashed pots and cracked jars, a shelf had come down long enough ago that the spilled contents were dried. A cobweb caught her eye. “Do you think there are spiders down here?”

“Spiders?” Merrill asked after a moment, her hand reaching out to help Marina stand. 

Marina looked at it, but didn’t take her hand. “Eight legged beasties, beady little eyes.” Marina replied, slowly looking up and waiting to see said beady eyes looking down at her. The ceiling was clear and she let out a slow breath. 

There was a tiny smile spreading over her lips, as Merrill crouched down instead and asked, “you don’t like spiders?” 

“Arachnids and I have an agreement to keep out of each other’s way.” In truth Marina hadn’t liked spiders since she’d been twelve and she’d broken her rib, unable to move quickly, Carver had spitefully taken advantage of the situation and dropped a massive one on her face. 

Marina faked a smile and didn’t quite meet her eyes. She pushed herself to her feet, looking for a way out. And focused on the metal door blocking their path, Marina put her shoulder against it and pushed. Nothing happened. She stepped back looking for a mechanism, but there was only polished stone staring back at her. She pressed her hands up against the door, wondering if she had the strength to push it back up. 

Merrill realised what she was doing and joined Hawke by the metal door, trying to push it up with her fingertips but slipping on the polished surface giving up almost as soon as she’d begun. She shrugged against it, her hand brushing up against Marina’s, her little finger knotting with Marina’s. “We’re going to have to wait for them to come for us.” 

“Seriously, the next time Varric comes up with the bright idea to explore the Deep Roads, remind me to hit him.” 

“This was my idea.” Merrill murmured quietly, leaning up against the metal door, stepping away from the other woman. 

Marina could have kicked herself, of course it had been. The tunnel had opened up near where Merrill’s clan was camped and her Keeper had asked them to explore as she worried it was a little beyond the ability of their best Hunters. “So it was,” Marina acknowledged, “well there’s no one else I’d rather be trapped with.”

“No one?” Merrill asked, her tongue darting out over her bottom lip as she looked up at the mage. 

Marina pulled away, pushing her fringe from her face and dumping the contents of her pockets on the floor. A small bag of honeyed nuts, her waterskin and a wrapped pouch of jerky. “We might as well make ourselves comfortable, you’re right, they’re going to be a couple hours getting to the city and back with help.” 

Merrill stood for a moment unsure, the hand that was now empty clenched in a fist at her side. She stared at the little pile on the floor, sighed and knelt down. She produced an apple, a small knife, half a bread roll and some dried elfroot. 

“A feast,” Marina declared, “fit for-” she broke off as she saw something small and dark and no bigger than a silver piece, scuttling across the floor. Working off instinct Marina sent a bolt of mana straight at it, blasting the spider into smithereens. “Maker’s breath.” 

“That one wasn’t going to hurt you,” Merrill chastised, looking concerned at the burn mark on the floor. Hearing one of her Keeper’s lectures, play in her mind about the benefits of a few spiders rather than an infestation of flies. But when she glanced back to Marina, the other mage looked pale.

“Bethany used to catch them for me, she’d run after them with a glass and some parchment then spend half an hour walking away from the house.” Marina confessed, but it sounded wrong in the confined space, she couldn’t stop looking in the corners of the room. 

Merrill thought it was the first time that she’d heard Marina speak of her sister since she’d had to leave her in the Deep Roads with the Wardens. “Have you heard from her yet?” 

“Nothing.” Marina spat bitterly, she unwrapped the jerky then wrapped it again and tossed it uneaten back into the pile.

Merrill said nothing from a long time, thinking of her clan mate that had joined the Wardens. She nudged Marina with her shoulder and offered, “maybe they’re not allowed to write. When Telissa joined the Wardens, she never wrote back.” 

Marina looked at her, emerald eyes watching back. Marina swallowed hard and plucked up the honeyed nuts to give herself a moment, she didn’t want to think about the fate of the Hero of Ferelden and what that might mean for her sister. She offered them to Merrill, painting on as real a smile as she could manage. “That must be it.” 

Merrill put her hand on the other woman’s shoulder, her thumb stroking out small, soothing runemarks. “She’ll write, Bethany will be fine.” Merrill promised, and took a small scoop of the offered treats.

Marina shifted a little around, silently noting that their calves just brushed against each other. She watched Merrill pick up each of the honeyed nuts and pop them in her mouth. It was the first time that Merrill had spoken unprompted about the Warden. “What was she like?”

Merrill leaned into the other mage, curling into the human and dropping her head against Marina’s shoulder. “Lonely,” she said, chewing slowly. “Thoughtful, she liked the songs. I always thought,” Merrill sighed, “that she’d come home. It doesn’t go away. I’m rambling.” She brushed her hands against her leggings getting rid of the crumbs.

“I asked, and,” Marina took Merrill’s hand in hers, “you’re never rambling, I want to hear what you have to say.”

Merrill slowly pulled her head from Marina’s shoulder, frowning in confusion, as she looked at the other woman. She found Marina’s sapphire-blue eyes were unblinking and unapologetic - she was sincere, strangely, singularly sincere. Merrill didn’t know what to say to that. 

So they sat in companionable silence, eating a little, sipping the waterskin. Merrill’s head dropped back to Marina’s shoulder, her eyes drifting open and shut lazily, as they waited for rescue. Merrill realised that Marina’s arm was tucked around Merrill’s waist and she couldn’t quite remember when it had been placed there, but she wasn’t complaining. She cuddled into Marina, but the human was sitting firmly upright as though she couldn’t relax, her fingers tapping out a pattern on her thighs. “What’s wrong?” Merrill asked her softly.

Marina gave her a shrug, then her shoulders slumped and she laughed as though she’d been caught out. “I’m still thinking about the spiders, I just need a distraction, cards or-”

“How about I kiss you instead?” 

Marina closed her eyes. “Maker,” she breathed. “What a proposition.” She turned slowly on the spot, until their noses touched. She could feel Merrill’s breath upon her mouth. Marina, ran her fingers through Merrill’s hair, till she found the nape of her neck and nudged her closer. Maker, she wanted this. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks, a spark building under her skin that had nothing to do with her magic or Merrill’s. 

Merrill’s tongue touched Marina’s lip first, testing. The mage tasted of honey, sweet and earthy, warm and delicious. She moaned at the touch, warm and opened her mouth to her. She sucked her lower lip and her teeth grazed across her lip. She didn’t stop until she was gasping, and greedily sucking in breaths, even then she’d found the corners of Marina’s leather breastplate and was fiddingly with the ties just behind her shoulder. 

Marina was shaking when Merrill pulled away, her gaze seemed even more piercing, her lips already swollen and her cropped hair in disarray. Marina caught her wrist, and pulled her hand away from the ties of her breastplate and held their hands between them. 

Leaving Merrill blinking in confusion. 

Panting Marina said, “I want you, know that I want you. But, our friends may be back any minute.” 

She watched Merrill blush, and nod, biting her lip. And sat back on her heels, “I don’t have any cards.” 

Marina cupped Merrill’s cheek, her fingertips brushing the lines of her vallaslin and felt Merrill’s eyelashes against her thumb. “This was a good idea,” she murmured, and hummed with approval, “better than Diamondback.” She hooked her arm through Merrill’s elbow to encourage her back. 

Merrill lent into her touch, captured and enraptured. She looped her arms around Marina’s neck, pressing the length of her body against Marina’s. 

Marina dipped her face to Merrill’s neck, promising, “even better than Wicked Grace.” Before she peppered kisses along the side of her jaw. 

Her kisses ticked, and Merrill’s stomach filled with magelights entirely new, she felt bubbly and giddy and giggled at Marina’s touch. 

Marina pulled her attention away from Merrill’s throat, painfully aware that their friends may be back at any inopportune moment, Marina did not attempt to remove any of Merrill’s armour, instead cupping her breast over her tunic. She felt like a horny teenager, back in a field outside Lothering. She could almost feel the sun on her skin, when the metal door to the side of them started clicking, the gears turning behind the obsidian column. 

Varric’s distinctive, disgruntled grumbling, could be heard through the door.

Merrill pulled back from Marina, but her fingers lingered on her thigh. But they were gone when the door was up. 

Finally, freed from the little room. Isabela was first to admit her disapproval that they had not stumbled upon the two naked and in the throws of passion. Even going so far as to glare at Marina, roll her eyes towards the heavens and dramatically hand over a small purse of coins to Varric. Who pocketed them without complaint.

It was only later as they were almost as the surface when Varric queried loudly. “You know, it seems like a waste to trap just a storeroom?”

“Does it matter, I’m not going back down there?” Isabela scoffed.

“Could be gold, Rivaini...”

Before Isabela could answer, Merrill had made the rest of the group jump by firing a bolt of mana towards a long forgotten corner. A moment later, seeming to realise what she had done, she flushed dramatically. Ringing her hands together in front of her.

“What were the pyrotechnics about?” Isabela muttered. 

“Oh, I saw a spider.” Merrill answered, giving Marina a shy look. And then hung back, and when no one was looking she threaded her fingers though Marina’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case the reference to Bethany doesn't make sense -  
Bethany and Carver survived the escape from Lothering. Bethany joined the expedition into the Deep Roads, tried to join the Wardens and didn't survive the Joining. Marina doesn't find out that her sister didn't survive until she meets Stroud again at the end of Act Two when the Arishok is trying to take control of the city, around four years after the fact.


	3. Mirror Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merrill has spent an unproductive day trying to get her eluvian to work, meaning she missed a group meeting (drinking session) at the Hanged Man. Which lead to Marina running all over Darktown looking for her.
> 
> They both need to destress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a repost. I did have them as two separate fics, but decided to combine them into a single work with multiple chapters. Sorry for any confusion - Hezjena xx

"Merrill?" The voice was accompanied by some rather frantic banging on her front door. "Are you in there?" The lock clattered, metal on wood. And the frame of Merrill’s rather poorly constructed door shook.

Merrill turned from her _eluvian, _and placed the _arulin'holm _down carefully on a large wooden table, she had woken up with a sudden rush of inspiration and had been working on the mirror all morning. The process was delicate, the tool made it easier, but it was still painfully time consuming. She stretched her arms of her head and bend from side to side to shake out the stiffness in her shoulders. 

Then dropped one hand to flicked the latch on the door. As she unlocked the door, she was surprised to find that the lanterns of the alienage were lit and the patches of sky she could see around the _vhenadahl _were scattered with stars. But in front of all that was Marina Hawke, bent against the doorframe, face flushed and staff drawn. She dropped her stave with a clatter of wood against stone. 

A heartbeat later, Merrill was bundled into Marina’s arms, who had wrapped her so close in her arms, hands scrunched into fists at her back. Merrill found it difficult to breath. 

"Where have you been?" Marina demanded, pulling back and searching her face with dazzling blue eyes. 

"Here?" Merrill said, utterly confused as to what all the fuss was about. 

Marina’s hands moved up to cup Merrill's face and she pressed a kiss against Merrill’s forehead, making her _vallaslin _burn. "When you didn’t show at the Hanged Man, I thought-" she broke off, swallowing hard, and sagging against Merrill, "-and Anders said he thought he say you in Darktown, and I thought you might have gotten lost-" 

"You were that worried about me?" Merrill questioned, her eyebrows raised as she considered it, Marina was close enough she could almost taste the salt on her cheek. 

"I was so scared." Marina confessed, and then laughed. A nervous sound that betrayed her fear. 

Then Merrill backed up, pulling from the embrace, "oh, um, come in." 

Marina blinked as though she’d completely forgotten they were still stood on the cobbled streets, and flicked her glanced around the alienage. It was quiet, and the patches of weeds that grew in spite where misted with a light sprinkling of dew. She picked up her staff, and set it in the corner, standing up against the wall. As she turned back she heard the door click closed behind her.

Marina found her fingers entangled with Merrill’s who guided her inside the room, she let go of her hand. And Merrill retreated to the table, and sat on it, legs swinging and picked up the tool she had been working with. "I didn’t think you’d worry." She admitted, looking down at it. Her work had been fruitless, a good idea that had lead nowhere. "I just lost track of time." 

"You work too hard," Marina breathed out, as her worry drained away. The anxiety flooding out of her, dripping out of her shoulders, through her spine and pooled in a spent puddle on the floor. She stepped up to Merrill, a hand cupped against her knee, her thumb tracing tiny circles. "Maybe," Marina scraped her teeth along her lower lip, "you should learn to take breaks?"

A hint of a smile graced the blood mage’s lips, and she watched with rapt interest the way that Marina’s mouth moved. The question layered with meaning. Placing the _arulin'holm _firmly on the table besides, her and sitting forward. Merrill looped her arms around Marina’s neck, dragging the standing woman inches closer. "And you could do it? Teach me? How to take breaks?" She was looking up through her dark eyelashes. 

Marina was lost in Merrill’s framed eyes, drowning in her gaze and utterly rapt. She closed the gap, pressing her tentative lips in a soft kiss. Then pulling back, a smirk on her face, then she bent her head forward and bopped her nose against Merrill’s, "you’ve been spending too long with Isabela," she smiled. 

She covered Marina’s hand on her knee with her own hand, and looked up through dark lashes. "Hawke?" She whispered, "I think this is when you’re meant kiss me." Merrill spread her knees, and wrapped one of her legs around Marina’s waist. 

"We’re bossy tonight, aren’t we?" Marina laughed softly, without malice. She was relieved. 

Merrill gave her a luxurious shrug, the action made Marina’s breath catch between her teeth. Marina hummed in appreciation. And Merrill smiled back, a grin, pleased at the effect she had created. 

The hand that was on her knee, slid up to her waist, and looped around her back, edging her closer to the edge of the table. Then with her other hand, she ran her hand up the line Merrill’s jaw, till her fingers were split by Merrill’s delicate leaf-shaped ear. Cupping her face, she pulled her in for a kiss. Her lower lip grazed the edge of Merrill’s soft and warm. 

And Merrill inhaled her kisses. 

The frustration of the useless day, was washed away by the delicious touches of Marina’s skin, every irritation channelled into a different exploration. And Merrill hoped that Marina would be easier to figure out than the blasted mirror. She hooked her other leg around Marina, intending to drag her back onto the table. Her free hand returning to loop around Marina’s neck. 

But Marina had other ideas as the hand slipped down from Merrill’s waist to her arse. 

Shivers rose on Merrill’s flesh.

Marina lifted Merrill from the table, and felt the gasp against her mouth. Hands behind her neck turning to claws to stop herself from falling, her gasp turning into a shriek and then a giggle. 

Marina smirked against her lover’s mouth. And used the excuse to press her tongue in, to thoroughly taste her. Sweet and sharp, like honey and bitter Dalish tea. 

Merrill pressed back, grinding against Marina’s hips in an effort to get closer, an excuse to prevent herself from falling. Though really it was all rather too late for that. A courageous hand trailed down from Marina’s neck to find the buckles on her jacket. In her effort to get Marina’s clothes off, she missed that the other woman was moving across the room. It was only when she found her back against the solid frame of her door framethat she gasped and stopped with her fumbling. "Marina?" 

A wicked smile appeared on Marina’s face, all white teeth and red lips. She pulled Merrill’s scarf off with her teeth and tossed it to the floor. Somewhere halfway between the doorway, the bed and the _eluvian. _

“Why do you always look at me like that? ” Merrill laughed, hooking a finger under Marina’s jaw and presses kisses against her neck. She could feel her pulse under her tongue. 

Mock offence painted across her expressed, Marina asked, “and what do you mean by that?” Enthralled with the sensation of Merrill’s mouth along the line of her neck. 

"Like you’re hungry, like you’re trying to eat me," Merrill laughed lightly, her face buried in the crook of Marina’s neck. And Merrill wriggled against her grip, and dropped one of her feet against the ground to steady herself. She moved from her neck to focus her full attention on the buckle she was trying to undo, it was stuck for a moment, and then with a little breath of victory she looked up. 

Marina was breathing hard, watching her like a… well… hawk. Her heart hammering under her skin, anticipation, "do you want me to?" Her voice barely louder than a whisper. As she set the other mage on her feet. 

Realising exactly what she’d just suggested, Merrill blushed from cheeks to toes, "I, um, I," she stammered, and then clamped her mouth shut and nodded once.

The loose fitting floorboards groaned as Marina dropped to her knees, she pressed her forehead against Merrill’s thigh and just breathed in. Inhaling her floral perfume, mixed with a hint of smoke picked up by Merrill’s insistence on working by candlelight. 

As Marina kept eye contact, she blindly unfastened the lacings on Merrill’s leggings, her hands were covered by the edge of Merrill’s tunic. 

Her skin was blazing to touch, as Merrill helped her push her leggings off, and stepped out of them, kicking the material halfway across the room. She saw the blurry reflection of the two of them in the _eluvian, _but it was like looking through mist. Rough shapes, whose edges blurred into the wood of the walls.

Then Marina paused for the moment, and drew back onto her heels. Watching Merrill’s as her shoulders shook, with ragged waiting, desperate breath. She shrugged her jacket off her shoulders, and discarded to the same pile as Merrill’s leggings, followed by her shirt that she pulled over her head. Breaking their eye contact for a moment. 

As Marina’s hand dipped under the bottom of her tunic and found the edge of her small clothes, Merrill clung onto the door frame _, _nails digging into the wood. Her every muscle was tense, shudderingly so. She moaned low in her throat when Marina ducked her head under her tunic as well. 

If the human’s hands had not kept her upright, Merrill would have dropped to the ground when Marina pulled the tiny article of cloth from her body and blew gently, a tiny puff of cool air, enough to send shivers across her whole body. Marina’s hand found the edge of Merrill’s footwrap, and strokes up the inside of her calf until she found the inside of her knee. She brushed the bare flesh there for a moment, and then pulled Merrill’s leg out from under her, guiding her so her leg was wrapped around her own neck. 

Merrill was quite sure that she was dreaming, quite sure that it was impossible to feel this good, as Marina trailed kisses up the inside of her thigh, until, _fuck _. Marina’s tongue was gentle, delicate and carving out slow intricate runes against her flesh. 

Heady moans filled the air. Merrill’s leg gripped around her neck, urging her closer. 

And Marina promptly, enthusiastically obeyed, she taste of sweet and citrus, like orange blossoms melting on her tongue. Her breath gasped out, hot and sticky, and her hand curved around her arse to keep her close. 

Sagging against the mirror, and Marina, Merrill was barely keeping herself upright. Even tendon unwound like a ball of twine, and she was lost in the licks and sucks of Marina’s mouth on her. She clawed at the frame, trying to find purchase, before panting she pulled her own tunic off to gaze down in adoration at the lady between her legs. Making such delicious sounds. She ran her hand through Marina’s dark hair, knotting her fingers in the loose stands and arching for more. 

“‘Rina,” Merrill sighed, not even coherent enough to say her full name, as Marina buried her face against Merrill, curling her tongue to press deep into her. 

The slow build, as Marina pulled back ever so slightly to allow her room to replace her tongue with two fingers, crooked in such a way to make Merrill writhe. Till Marina was hardly moving fast, but purposefully, with enough pressure to bring her to the edge. To the edge of- what was it? Sanity? Satisfaction? 

Croaking our her name, Merrill folded down upon herself, till she was hanging limp against Marina. “ _Ar lath ma _,” Merrill breathed, as she sunk down next to Marina, eyeing her swollen lips and bent forwards. Licking her lower lip, tasting herself on Marina’s mouth, she pulled back in triumph. Then as though realised she slipped from Trade, she moved to apologise, “Oh it means-‘

“No,” Marina said quickly, her eyes tracing over Merrill’s _vallaslin, _and she shook her head as though to clear it. “Don’t tell me,” she whispered, and bent forward till their foreheads pressed together and she could feel Merrill’s breath on her face, the edge of her nose against her own, “teach me.” 

Merrill blinked at her, “you want me to teach you elvish?” Her gaze flicked around the room, until it rested for a moment on the shapes in the mirror. In the dusty surface she couldn’t see where Marina ended and she began. 

Marina smirked, a grin that started in the corner of her mouth and spread across her whole face like wildfire. Then she bit her lower lip, and let her teeth pull back devastatingly slowly “in exchange.” And she sat back, suddenly mock seriously, “for more lessons in relaxation?” 


	4. Marry Me Marguerite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merrill and Marina spend some time together - and Marina rushes in with a very big question

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - implied homophobia and internalised homophobia/biphobia
> 
> Because ugh that line from Leandra at the start of Act Two about ‘thanks for the house, kid, now let’s get you married off to an appropriate person of the opposite gender’. Don’t like it, and I headcanon Marina certain didn’t like it and has had to put up with this heteronormative nonsense for years.

“You’re a menace,” Marina muttered indulgently, as Merrill had stolen her mug from the table before she’d quite finished it. The cooling liquid was still sloshing around in the bottom, as Merrill plucked it up. Marina caught her hand, Merrill’s fingers were scrubbed clean, all the traces of her magic carefully washed away. She laid down the letter she’d been reading and gazed adoringly up at the other mage. 

The week had been quiet, no plans for adventure or drama, so Merrill had stayed the night, which had turned into a string of sleepovers. Without bothering to return home Merrill was currently wearing her green tunic as a dress, over one of Marina’s borrowed blouses. The sleeves were so long on her that Marina had dissolved into a fit of giggles and Merrill had thrown her a look and rolled the long sleeves back over her elbows. 

“Oh, I’m a menace, am I?” Merrill questioned warmly, nudging her back, “you won’t finish it and then it will be sitting there, all afternoon.”

Marina let her fingers linger a moment, rubbing small circles with her thumb, then she retorted with mock horror, “Maker spare me, go tidy someone else’s lunch away.” 

“Food left out will only attract the foxes, and although I do love their big fluffy faces and their little stubby feet,” she paused, frowning so deeply that it caused a deep crevice between her brows, “oh that’s silly, isn’t it?” She continued, crestfallen, leaning into Marina’s touch to comfort her, “all the foxes are back in Ferelden.” 

As Merrill was distracted, Marina stretched out her arm for her lover, she caught the elf by the hip and planted a soft kiss against her waist. The action brought giggles spilling from her lips and Marina took the opportunity to steal the rest of her tea back. Marina looked up suddenly, and asked, without quite keeping the smile from her eyes, “is this your way of asking for a pet fox?”

Merrill’s emerald eyes were wide, her gaze framed by long dark lashes and wholly fixed on Marina. The other woman couldn’t tell if it was excitement or horror, until she gasped, “where would we keep it?”

“Bathtub?”

“Oh no, I don’t think that’s a suitable environment for… ohh, you’re joking!” She sighed out a breath and dropped against the table. Merrill’s hand flying to her chest as she laughed. Relief slashed over her face, her cheeks blushed and the smile she wore touched her eyes. 

Marina’s heart swelled at the sight of her. The crinkle at the edge of Merrill’s eyes, tugging on the lines of her _ vallaslin _was enough to make her feel dizzy. She felt like a child again, once she had challenged her siblings to see who could whirl around the longest. Not the most imaginative game, but what else was there to do in a boring field in Ferelden but make up pointless games all day. And after concocting the competition, Marina was determined not to lose. So she’d ran in circles, arms flung out till she was breathless, till she couldn’t even stand anymore. Looking at Merrill, she felt dizzier. 

Marina gulped in a breath, wondering if she could convince Merrill up the stairs and into her bed, for a long afternoon of seeing all the expressions that Marina could coax from her. But dutifully she nodded, “I was joking.” 

“Oh _ vhenan _,” Merrill laughed, her good humour dissolving into a mischievous grin as she bent to press a kiss into Marina’s cheek. She was caught before she could pull back, Marina’s hand cupping her cheek, her thumb pressing over the black lines of her tattoo. 

Merrill could do little more than shiver into the touch and let herself be drawn into a deep kiss. Marina’s tongue pressed out to run across the line of her lip, she tasted like fresh-picked apples, cool and crisp. Sweet as an autumnal day, But she pressed her hand into her lover’s shoulder, to push her back a little. “I do need to head down to the alienage-“

“To work more on your mirror?” Marina asked lightly enough, it was coming. Marina knew she couldn’t have kept Merrill up in Hightown forever. Though he thought of her walking alone made her heart flutter with fear. Merrill could defend herself easily, but she looked like an easy target to cutpurses and common thugs. One misplaced blade… 

Merrill saw the uneasy look pass across Marina’s sky blue eyes, like a cloud blotting out the sun. She glanced around the empty dining room, there was a grandfather clock in the corner, ticking quietly. As though mocking her that time was trickling out. Before she could stop it the fierce reaction bubbled out of her throat. “I need to keep working on it, for my people.” 

Looking down, Marina nodded, a gentle gesture that pushed part of her fringe over her eyes. Without thinking she blurted. “Bring it up to the estate, I’m sure we can find a room for-“

“No,” Merrill cut off quickly with a small, sad smile that seemed to weigh her shoulders down as well. “I need to keep this separate.”

There was a silence between them, still as the wind just after the sunsets. A natural calm. 

Merrill rested her arm on the back of Marina’s chair and corrected, “it’s just that, it’s old magic and bringing it-“

“I understand,” Marina said honestly, stopping her explanation because it was unnecessary. Merrill could have all the space she desired, Marina wasn’t quite sure what she would be capable of denying the other woman anymore. She was smitten, head over heels gone. Isabela mocked her for it mercilessly, every time they played cards, making lewd comments and insinuations. But Marina was quite sure she would have it no other way. Her friend’s easy acceptance was precious to Marina. 

So she twisted in her seat to rest her cheek against Merrill’s forearm, the touch truthful, reassuring, saying everything that Marina wasn’t sure she could put into words. All the little things, the Common was woefully ill equipped to deal with. 

But Marina’s thoughts were shattered when Leandra Hawke blustered into the door carrying a glass vase with white flowers artfully arranged. 

Marina jumped hard, pulling away from Merrill, and knocking the rescued mug of tea across the floor. “Mother?” She felt the heat in her cheeks, now ashamed at how she sprang away. The stain across the rug was a blemish, the tell-tale sign of Marina’s failing. Next to her, she felt Merrill stiffen, Marina’s stomach twisted over. 

Leandra glanced to her daughter and then to the elf, raising as eyebrow as she noted the borrowed blouse. She set the vase she’d been holding down on a lace doily, her back to her daughter. She muttered, disapproval creeping into her tone. “It’s so strange, they came this morning. No note.” Leandra fussed with the vase of what Marina realised were lilies. Leandra twisted and turned the vase back and forth with an appraising eye, each turn depositing a dusting of yellow pollen on the polished wooden table. “Have you got an admirer, Marina?” She examined her daughter with the same critical eye, head thrown over her shoulder, “some strapping young man you might want to make your husband?” 

It wasn’t meant unkindly, but the cruelty of her question hit Marina so hard she might as well have knocked her eldest daughter to the ground with a large board with a nail driven through it. And finding herself still upright Marina after the assault, she wanted nothing more than to lie on the floor, pull a blanket over her head and never face Merrill or her mother again. 

The weight of her mother’s gaze cut through her, as though she can hear the lecture, _ she’s a noble now, she must learn to act like it. _ The shame of it all crystallised around her, and trying to break free is like trying to punch upwards through the frozen lake, the word ‘husband’ filling up her lungs like icy water. Instead of addressing any of this, she tightened her hand into a fist on her lap, hidden under the table. “An unfortunate admirer, I hate lilies.” She wriggled her nose for emphasis, “unless it was a dastardly attempt to make me sneeze?” 

Merrill let out a little breath of air, not quite enough to quite be a laugh, a sigh? She twisted her hands together, even though it stings. Her knuckles are a little sore, from scrubbing her hands clean this morning. She washes her hands obsessively in Hawke’s estate, over and over with a harsh bristle scrubbing brush and a block of soap. As though rubbing off the top layer of skin might make her more presentable. 

And as she twisted her hands together Merrill recognised another string, just behind her eyes. Her vision glazed, just for a second before Merrill forced the tears away. Merrill cannot be disappointed, because it isn’t like she didn’t foresee this. She always knew Marina was too good for her, and her mother was guiding her on a path away from Merrill. 

But she’d been a moth drawn to the firelight, and the fire had whispered such pretty words, make such sweet promises, and the moth had forgotten that fire burns. And now her wings are in flames and it hurts - her melting flesh. 

Leandra doesn’t quite acknowledge Marina’s comment, instead she makes a non-committal sound in the back of her throat. “I shall write to Carver, see when he next has a day off from his Templar training, it will be so nice to have dinner again as a family.” There is a pointed look to Merrill. 

Which Merrill interpreted plainly as telling her she is just a stray her daughter picked up, to be indulged like her Mabari, but never laid a place at the table. 

Then as quickly as she arrived Leandra was gone, disappearing off to fuss around the large mostly empty estate. 

Merrill felt a panic grow under her skin. “I should go,” Merrill pressed quickly, her arm moving from the back of the chair. 

“Wait, please,” Marina begged instinctively. It would have been kinder if her mother had just done her in with a dagger. Her chest tight and winded. She shuddered out a breath. Her mind a mess. She pressed both hands to the side of her face, but couldn’t quite meet Merrill’s emerald green eyes. 

She desperately needed to apologise to Merrill.

Blindly, she reached forward, till her hands found her lover’s waist. Her head bowed, forehead resting gently against Merrill’s stomach. Marina thought she could feel Merrill’s heartbeat, or it might have been her own, pounding in the back of her ears. “If I,” she poked her tongue out, wet her lip and started again, “if I asked you to go up the steps with me, would you do it?” 

Merrill put her hand on the side of Marina’s face, pushing her back so she could see her expression. Her words make no sense, and the tortured, desperate, hopeless look on Marina’s face isn’t giving her any clues either. “Up the steps?” 

The laugh is torn from her before she can stop it, the ridiculousness of the situation hitting her all at one. “_ Ir abelas _,” Marina said, borrowing Merrill’s habit of slipping into elvish to show sincerity. And she is utterly sincere as she tried, faultingly to explain, “I shouldn’t have used human slang, all Chantries have steps going up to them, and, ohhh, I’m doing this all wrong.” She pushed Merrill back a few inches and scrapping her chair back dropped to her knees in front of the other woman. 

There is something almost comical about the bemused expression tugging underneath Merrill’s _ vallaslin _ as she looks down at Marina _ . _

“I’m trying to say, I’m trying to ask. Will you be my wife?” 

For a single moment Merrill blinked slowly, the question so alien to her that she didn’t recognise it for what it is. “But I’m an elf?” Her words came out like a question, Merrill’s spinning, like she’d been at the top of a grassy hill and she’s rolling down it. Her brow furrowed and her lips pursed in a frown and Merrill could only stare at Marina. 

“I wish I could offer you more, I don’t even have a ring.” Marina found herself babbling, talking without thinking, but she couldn’t make herself stop. “It doesn’t have to be a Chantry,” she took Merrill’s hand, squeezing it tightly, “is there a Dalish way, can we catch the Clan before they leave?”

It was enough to shock Merrill, as though she’d been hit with a lightning bolt. “The Keeper won’t, she-” Merrill broke off. 

It was a gentle rejection, but it was a rejection. Marina knew her spontaneous idea might not be taken well from before she blurted out her wild plans. Marina knew she didn’t have the best motives, it was a reaction - in that moment she knew never wanted anyone to assume she didn’t love Merrill again. Never wanted another sly comment from her mother, never wanted to feel she couldn’t stand up for her - she should have defended Merrill. Marina made her peace with it, she’d try again in a few years, her next proposal would be an independent act. She’d be better, she’d become what Merrill deserved. 

As though the other woman could read her thoughts she blinked, then she grinned. The smile was so pure and wide that Marina thought she looked like the sun breaking through the clouds. Marina loved her so utterly that she could do nothing but smile in return. Her heart hurt, but she’d heal. 

“Oh, you were joking-“

“I’m not joking,” Marina whispered, her throat closing at the idea of it. Then because there was nothing else she could say she added, “I love you.”

Thoughtfully, Merrill absorbed this. She dropped down to Marina’s level, her arms looping around the back of Marina’s neck, her bright green eyes ghosting across her expression. 

There were some things that Merrill was sure about; Marina was beautiful, undeniably. She was sarcastic and utterly unbothered by everything, confident. And she was funny! There was never a moment when a joke was out of reach, and ohhhhh she made Merrill laugh. Hours of laughing, laughing so hard her ribs ached and her face hurt. And, _ Creators, _Merrill wanted to be around Marina forever. 

But now, the other woman was sacred, Merrill could see the fear in her sapphire eyes. She was certain, Marina was terrified, but that made no sense, Marina was the bravest creature that Merrill had ever met. To Merrill, Marina was a mystery, not unlike the mystery she should have been working on, and she verbalised the thought, “I was going to work on my mirror this afternoon.” How strange and far away her plans felt now.

“Let me walk you to Lowtown,” came out as a sigh, in a tone that brokered no disagreement. 

Merrill gave her a look, but slid her fingers down Marina’s shoulders, across her collarbone. Then down, joining both hands in front of them. She tugged a little, pulling Marina close enough that she could press her lips to Marina. 

A kiss, a chaste one at that. But Marina held onto the sensation, she hadn’t blown her chance so utterly that Merrill wished to have nothing to do with her. She held onto it, the little shard of hope, held it so tight and fiercely under her chest she was sure she’d bleed from it. 

When she pulled away, Merrill asked. “So, when do you want to go up the steps to the Chantry?” 

It was Marina’s turn to blink uncomprehending. She gawped at the other mage so completely blindsided that she could only mutter the monosyllabic, “what?”

Merrill glanced away, her eyes focusing on the clock. Time, every moment spent with Marina was time well spent. Merrill’s cheeks were stained with a blush and she bit her bottom lip for a heartbeat before asking, “can we invite people? I think Varric would want to be there, he doesn’t like to feel left out, so maybe this weekend?”

“You’re saying-?”

“Yes. Yes, vhenan.” 

Marina stood slowly on shaky legs. Pulling Merrill to her feet, then she almost collapsed on the other woman as she took her in her arms. She fisted her fingers in the fabric of Merrill’s tunic. Pressing kisses into her neck, twirling her fingers through her short black hair, until she sas breathless in the best possible way. 

“What will you tell your mother?” Merrill asked, a little giddy with the excitement of the whole thing. 

“The truth.”

“You will?”

“Of course.” Marina paused, looking at the lilies. She plucked the bundle up and dumped them all into a waste paper bin as they passed the study. With a tickle in the back of her throat from the pollen, Marina started to plan the detour through the market, she was going to buy a large bouquet of marguerites wondering if her mother would even notice the switch. She stopped suddenly, and dropped a quick kiss on Merrill’s nose, promising her, “I’ll tell her in the morning.” 


	5. Messages Undelivered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marina is struggling to deal with Leandra’s death, struggling to find the words to even express what she’s feeling. Merrill offers her a coping method.

Marina swayed, looking at the bed in Merrill’s rented house in the alienage that had specifically been designed to be small. It was little more than a wooden framed cot, made for a single elf and purposely designed to deter fraternisation.

Though it seemed like that particular ship had sailed, considering it was only working to keep her away from her fiancée. 

When Marina had turned up, Merrill had pulled the blankets off the bed and created for them both a sort of nest on the floor to the side of her bed. Pillows piled up in the corner of the room, along with all her blankets and thick winter jumpers. All thrown down to hide the hard wooden floor beneath. 

Watching Merrill in a flurry of pillows, blankets and bedding, Marina lent against the doorway. Her heart pounded out erratically in her chest. It was painful, part panic attack and part war cry. 

Watching Merrill - Marina was suddenly unsure why she had turned up, empty handed to her door, Kirkwall’s evening bells ringing in her ears. Marina only knew that she couldn’t stay another moment in the big empty estate in Hightown.

There was a gaping hole in the centre of the state where her mother’s room had been left, undisturbed. The empty space matching the torn out space in Marina’s own chest. 

Scuttling around the dark corners, her Uncle had been pottering around aimlessly, dark circles under his eyes. The two of them had barely exchanged two words since she’d recounted the details of her mother’s death, still herself in too much shock, to consider trying to soften the blow. 

Carver had come and gone. Her brother wasn’t able to stand the guilt in the air, the rolling waves of it, rippling out from Marina in tangible waves. She could almost see them battering her brother in his shiny Templar armour, like waves against a lighthouse. The corner of her mouth tweaked up at that image, before her smile dropped off her face: her brother wasn’t a guiding light, but a swinging chandelier illuminating her regrets. 

He had been the preferred child after all. The shine hadn’t even rubbed off when he’d disappeared to bully mages in the Gallows. Mages that could have been their sister, mages that could have been Marina. She looked up, could be Merrill. 

At her side, Marina’s fingers clenched into fists. Leandra’s last conversation stained Marina, like the yellow pollen from the lilies dust stained the wooden table. Marina stared at her hands, knowing, and knowing she’d always know - Leandra would never know. 

She never got a chance to tell her. 

Never got to see the look of resigned disappointment as Marina tied herself quite literally to Merrill. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Merrill asked, quietly. She was sitting cross legged on the duvet she’d spread across the hard wooden floor. Her hands rested together in front of her on her lap, nervously her thumb ran back and forth over a scab on her other hand. 

Hopelessly, Marina looked at Merrill, not able to find words or reason. She just stood in the entrance way to her bedroom, her hands now hanging limply at her sides.

Marina closed her eyes tightly, she’d always been quick with words, witty, but now they sank leaden off her tongue. So many things unsaid that they threatened to choke her, but she still couldn’t get them out. Eventually, finally, she found enough strength to simply say;

“I have no idea what to say.” 

Merrill blinked at her with large emerald eyes, her head tilted just slightly as though evaluating Marina. She turned, reached under her bed and pulled out a good sized wooden box. She tapped the ground, welcoming Marina to her, and then sat back. Merrill’s back against the bed frame and she pulled a pillow down to hug tightly to herself.

“You know when Telissa left,” Merrill started, her voice quiet, but picking up volume as she continued. “I started writing to her. At first it was practical,” Merrill explained, to the box rather than to Marina, “the Clan had moved and I wanted her to be able to find us again. We were already here, at Sundermount when we got the news, the Blight was over and she wasn’t coming home.” 

Marina’s voice cracked a little as she asked, “you’ve kept writing to her?” She moved forward. Kneeling on the edge of the blanket on the floor, and she reached for the box. Her fingertips barely touched the edge, before she flicked her hand away and looked up to ask for permission. 

Merrill nodded with a simple smile.

The box was well worn, the corners had been rounded off. The top was covered in a beautiful engraving of twisted vines. There was a metal catch that had been broken, the spring lost and repaired with a pin. 

Inside were blank sheets of rough paper, neatly trimmed and all the same size. Besides the paper was a little bottle of corked blue ink and an ink pen that had seen better days. Next to it was a little bundle of ribbons more knot than organised supply, a stub of a candle and Ferelden coin glued onto a block of wood that functioned as a seal. 

It was a stationery box. 

Merrill sucked in her lower lip, “it’s not the same, it’s never the same. But sometimes paper can take the words that you need to say.” 

Marina took a sheet of paper and wondered if they were handmade. She ran her thumb over the textured surface, although great care had been made to make it as smooth as possible, it was unlikely they were bought from the market in Lowtown. 

With a slightly shaky hand, Marina picked up the pen. It didn’t suit Marina’s hand, the nib had been worn down on the wrong side, as Merrill was right-handed. The pen felt a little clunky in her fingers, but Marina wasn’t sure how much that was her own uncertainty manifesting. 

When Marina couldn’t get the lid of the inkwell off, Merrill unscrewed it for her. Passing her a tiny smile, before hugging her pillow back towards her chest. 

With a last, desperate, confused look at Merrill through her lashes Marina gave into her fate and scratched out the name;

_ Leandra, _

Her pen hovered above the page, the curl of the ‘d’ annoyed her more than it should have and she angrily crossed it out,

_ Progenitrix, _

Then she scribbled that out as well. Almost blotting out both words in her hurry. 

Staring at the mess she’d already made of the page, Marina felt her cheek flash with heat. The letter writing was Merrill’s idea, she thought she should at least take it seriously. Merrill wasn’t watching her, she was busy picking at the scab on her hand, affording Marina privacy and company.

_ Mother, _

Marina tapped the nib of her pen against the paper, and paused to dip it again in the ink. She didn’t have a clue what to say, so she watched the ink drip back into the little vial. By the time she moved back to continue, the pen scratched drily against the parchment. 

_<strike> Leandra</strike>, _ _   
_ _<strike> Progenitrix</strike>, _ _   
_ _ Mother, _

_<strike> Why did How come you Didn’t you even I never wanted</strike> _ _   
_ _ Why _

Marina blinked away tears and the letters. The curved ‘why’ floated in a droplet of salt-water splashed onto the page. Lifted up like a paper boat in a lake, the ink floated from the page. Marina resisted at the last minute to scrunch it all in a ball and throw it away. Tempering her worst destructive instincts, instead she said simply. “I’ve ruined your paper.” 

“It’s not ruined,” Merrill told her seriously, passing her pillow over her head and onto the bed, before lending over to rest her cheek on her shoulder and read the words that Marina had written. “That’s two words more than you had before.”

A hollow, twisted sound jumped out from Marina’s throat, her best approximation of a laugh. “Yes,” she agreed, “it’s the first two words I’m happy with. They don’t say much.” 

“They don’t have to.” Merrill said, gently. 

Marina nodded. Before returning the materials she had used to the box, and closing the lid. Her letter between them, the blue of the smudged ink a stain against the warm off-white paper. 

It made Marina think of the Chantry pamphlets that the Sisters gave out near the Estate. She could just picture Merrill hoarding them, tearing them to shreds, soaking and remaking them. Without a single concern for the supposedly sacred scripture that dissolved in the water. 

She wondered if Merrill hung them out to dry on the wire above the kitchen table, or pressed them flat under heavy bricks, so they’d be waiting for her when she came back from another outing. 

In her distraction, Merrill had laid Marina’s letter carefully on top of the box, like an offering on the shrine atop Sundermount. 

It was too much. A kindness that Marina was sure she didn’t deserve. So she buried her head in her hands and crunched up her legs to avoid the wall. Then moved so she wouldn’t have to look at what she’d failed to write, the words she’d failed to say. 

Some eulogy. 

Marina sagged to the side and curling up in a ball on her floor. She shifted slightly, to lay her cheek against Merrill’s thigh. With her head in her lover’s lap she asked, “what do you write? When you write Telissa, what do you say?” 

Merrill’s fingers gently ran through Marina’s hair, moving the strands from one side to the other, pushing her hair from her forehead and then back into place. 

It was so soothing, Marina found her eyes closing. She lent into the gesture. 

“I tell her about everything, I told her about you.”

Marina froze, she cracked an eye open. “All good things, I hope.” 

“I told her you were afraid of spiders.” 

“Hmpf,” Marina exhaled, “that’s a trade secret, right there.” But closed her eyes again. The weight of pretending to be normal, carefree Hawke was just too much at that moment. 

Merrill’s hands stopped moving and she amended with a still voice. “I don’t suppose she’ll tell anyone.” 

The room was dimly lit, but Marina’s eyes ached like they did after a stint in the Deep Roads. This time it wasn’t dust that inflamed her eyes. “No, I don’t suppose she will.” Her voice was soft and quiet in the dark room. 

Half a hundred heartbeats later, Merrill continued. “I told her you were funny, and clever. That you try to cheat at Wicked Grace, but if it actually works you feel bad and buy drinks if you win. You like to pretend you don’t care, but you do.” She snorted, an adorable small sound, that seemed immeasurably big. That broke through some of the misery, like ice cracking on a frozen late on the first day of Spring. “And the Keeper even likes you. That I love- mpf.”

Her sentence cut in the middle as Marina sat up, and kissed her firmly. 

She moved so suddenly it was enough to make Merrill gasp. But, she responded, after a fluttering heartbeat and pressed back. Her lips, soft and sure against her.

Marina pulled back so there was only a sliver between them, their breath intermingling, just so Marina could see her face. “I love you too.” She watched helplessly as Merrill smiled, just a little, and Marina fell once again. 

Because loving Merrill was easy, natural as breathing. 

“Thank you,” Marina whispered, booping the tip of her nose against Merrill’s. 

“For what?” Merrill frowned, pulled back further, her face a picture of confusion. 

_ For not blaming her, for not pitying her, for not making her talk about it _, Marina thought. “For knowing what I needed.”


End file.
